


Selfish Love

by sweethaleia



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28287087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweethaleia/pseuds/sweethaleia
Summary: Bucky is in love with Steve. But he can not have him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Selfish Love

It’s a cold night in December, probably the coldest so far. The snow is falling for a while, and it starts to pile up on the roofs, front doors, stairs, and the few vehicles on the streets. Christmas is close, but with the war blowing abroad, hitting its worst peak, the number of deaths getting higher each day, no one feels Christmassy enough to decorate their houses.

War means that people were dying, good men were losing their lives in the enemies’ lines, wives were receiving grieving letters, mothers were losing their sons, kids were becoming orphans, and hunger was ravaging cities abroad. Some worse than others.

Bucky is thankful for the food they had on their table. For the little they have. For not fighting in the front lines of the war, at least, not yet. He had to look after Steve. Little Steve, whose mother passed away a few months ago, since then Bucky used to spend more time with his childhood best friend than with his own family. That’s exactly where he was going now.

Sweet little Steve, Bucky sighs. He shouldn’t think of him the way he does, but Bucky can’t help himself. They grew up together, they were really close to each other. At first, he thought he was just being protective towards his friend, however, as time passes by, they become teenagers, that’s when Bucky started to realize his feelings towards Steve. He denied it so many times to himself, repulsed by his own being. He tried to change it, hang out with other girls, mostly, because they were always hitting on him, but it never changed. He still felt the same way. Those strong, warm, tender feelings, they shouldn’t be there, but they were. He has to deal with it. He has to deal with the fact that Steve would never love him again because that’s not what they are supposed to.

Bucky trips in the snow, holding the bottle against his chest. He could not break it. Bucky was thankful enough that he had won some stupid bet against the fellas in that bar. Betting on, or so it seemed, the ‘weaker’ play to win that billard. He was always the one to believe in the skinny, thin, little guys.

Wine is always a good beverage for the cold days, so when he got his prize, he thought of going to Steve’s, to make sure that his friend was fine, that he wasn’t sweeping out the snow from the front stairs, and risking getting a cold, or worse, pneumonia. Also, they should not drink. Well, Steve should not drink since he’s two years younger than Bucky, which means he’s still twenty while Bucky is twenty-two. C’mon, they were facing war, they deserved it, they should find relief in something. And since, what Bucky wants, that is Steve, he can not have, at least, he can spend some time and have fun with him.

The neighborhood is creepy at this hour of the night. It's only 10:00 p.m., but it looks like everyone else is already sleeping, or just locked in their house, afraid of the war, the bombs, the hunger, and the deadly cold. Locked in the safety of their rooms with their children, parents, family, dogs, or cats.

Steve’s building is poorly decorated for Christmas just like the rest of the neighborhood. He knows Steve is not too fond of Christmas, well, this time of the year, in general. Winter was the time he got sick the most, which kept him in bed for as long as he needed to feel great again. Feeling great means he would be able to work or wander in the streets, go to the movie theater, hang out with the ladies Bucky paired him to, even though Bucky hated those dates. He’d rather spend time with Steve, only Steve.

He knocks on the door, waiting for an answer. He knows where the extra key is placed because Steve had the terrible habit of losing his keys. Generally, in the alleys, he got beat up. He listens to Steve’s steps coming to the door before it opens wide, making Steve’s twitch his nose with the cold air.

“Hey, punk,” Bucky says, stepping in and ruffling Steve’s already messy hair. He was wearing comfy clothes, sweatpants, and a cotton shirt, he looked like he just had woken up. “You’re good?” Bucky closes the door behind him, noticing Steve’s nose getting red, probably another allergy manifesting itself in that fragile body. “Why is it so cold here?”

He does not wait for Steve’s answer, already checking the fireplace and adding wood to it to make it warmer. He makes a mental reminder to bring more firewood tomorrow, so Steve never runs out of it.

“Buck,” Steve finally says. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”

Ouch. Bucky thought Steve would be happy to see him, it seems he was wrong.

“Just checking on a friend,” Bucky replies, going to the kitchen, and check the cupboards for food. He’s satisfied when he finds safe storage. “Also, I got this.” Bucky raises the wine bottle.

Steve frowns, holding the bottle in his tiny hands. He rubs the label while he reads whatever it is on it.

“I can’t--” Steve started, quickly cut off by Bucky putting a plate with a recently made sandwich he had just prepared while Steve was too busy reading the label.

“Eat. Then, we’re going to drink.”

Thankfully, Steve does not argue. The blond gives a bite on the sandwich as Bucky watches him. The dark-haired would not want Steve to feel the burn on the stomach with the alcohol. God, they are supposed to be having fun, not dealing with a sudden stomach ache caused by fasting drinking. Meanwhile, Bucky finds a corkscrew to open the bottle.

He takes it to the couch, placing the bottle somewhere on the floor and filling two glasses.

“I don’t think I should--” Steve starts to say when Bucky hands the glass to him.

“You feel warmer after this,” Bucky encourages, letting it clear that if Steve does not want, he will not force on him.

Steve holds the glass, sipping at it and grimacing when he swallows the dark purple liquid, which makes Bucky laugh.

“This good, huh?”

Steve drinks a little more, getting used to the sour taste, biting the sandwich after the sip, relieving any discomfort in his stomach.

“Yeah. It’s… drinkable.”

“Hell, it is.” Bucky turns his glass at once, leaning against the back of the couch and refilling his glass.

Steve, however, takes a little longer to finish his first glass, he leans against Bucky’s arm on the couch. The warmness and the fuzzy start to kick in when he hands his glass for another one.

“I definitely feel warmer,” Steve states while drinking his second glass. “Where did you get this?” he asked, raising the glass and looking at the liquid inside.

“Won a bet at a billiard play.”

“I thought we talked about you betting around there,” Steve scolds him.

Bucky laughed. Of course, they talked about it. Sometimes, Bucky could not help himself, but the thing is, he’s good at it. He had won another few bets around the neighborhood. His hints were almost always right. He also had lost a lot of money in a bet, which eventually led to that conversation. So, yes, they talked about it, but he wasn’t the kind of doing what Steve says. Hell, not even Steve listens to his own advice, why should he then?

“Pretty sure we did, but I’m getting too drunk to care,” Bucky laughed against Steve’s shoulder, raising his eyes to watch Steve finishing his glass in a sip. His skin is definitely feeling warmer, Bucky thought. “Hey. Slow down, punk.”

“No. You got me into this. You’re gonna handle me.” Steve points an accusatory finger at him, leaning to refill half of his glass.

Bucky shakes his head, putting a shocking hand over his heart. And now, he has to deal with it. An almost drunk Steve.

It’s not until they were laughing lazily on the couch about every single sound any of them do that Bucky realizes that, yes he’s a little drunk, but Steve, Steve is drunk as fuck. The blond is not used to it, so it’s not a surprise at all. Steve complains like a toddler when Bucky takes the bottle of wine away, saying that they already had enough, and coming back with some sheets to cover Steve on the couch.

“Just a little bit. It felt so good. I think I’ve never been so warm in my life,” Steve whines.

“You’ve had enough for a lifetime,” Bucky says, putting the sheets over Steve’s tiny frame.

Steve stares at him longly. Bucky can’t help the way his gaze falls on the blond’s lips, tainted with the wine, following up to the pink cheeks from the heat caused by the alcohol.

“You’re so beautiful, Buck,” Steve says, leaning in his embrace.

“And you are drunk, Stevie.”

Bucky is caught in surprise when those red lips smash against his. Steve’s lips obviously tasted like wine, and it feels... right. It feels so fitted as Steve slips his tongue in the heat of his mouth, exploring it, tasting him. Eager for touching when Steve slides his hands around the dark-haired neck, deepening their innocent kiss. Perhaps, for the first time since he realized his feelings for Steve, he felt it was right. He had kissed a lot of girls before, but why only right now he realized that those kisses meant nothing. They were nothing compared to Steve’s lips on his. None of them could ever take Steve’s place in his heart. Why does it feel so right? Almost like destiny.

But Bucky knows that this is not real. It’s not real because Steve likes girls. He just could not think straight with so much alcohol in his system. That’s fine. Bucky could live with it, with the fact that Steve would never be able to love him back. So, his Christmas wish was that he could take that kiss back, so he would not have to suffer for missing something he could never have.

Damn Steve!

Steve pulls away with a silly smile on his face. Bucky smiles back, caressing his thumb against his blushed cheeks. The blond leans on his touch, which is the most pleasant and cutest thing Bucky has ever seen. Steve looked healthier than all those years he’d known him.

“You need to rest,” Bucky says, pulling the blanket over Steve’s body on the couch. “Thank you, Stevie.”

Steve is asleep in minutes. Bucky sits on the armchair, looking over Steve. That’s not right, he slaps himself. This… love between them. That’s not right, Bucky blames himself. He needed to put an end to it. It’s better sooner than later. He closes his eyes, well-aware of his decision. It was him, James Buchanan Barnes talking, not the alcohol. He had to do it. For him, for his family, for Steve. It would be better this way, no matter how much it hurts. It would be better for both of them.

When the first rays of the sun hit the window, Bucky blinks wide awake. Memories from the night flowing through his head in an incessant rush. It hurts. His head hurts, and his tongue is dry. Not a trace of the wine that warmed their kiss last night.

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, yawning. His eyes fall over the thin figure asleep on the couch. Bucky smiles. He’s scared, but he will not let the fear take the best of him. Bucky pulls the blanket a little bit higher to ensure that his best friend is fully covered. He places a genuine, affectionate kiss on Steve’s cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Stevie.”

Bucky puts on his coat and blue scarf. He looks at Steve, sighing.

It’s time to enlist.

**Author's Note:**

> Say 'hello' on my [Tumblr](http://agathaharknness.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
